


The One with the Cuddling

by mariachocobo



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Cuddling and Snuggling, M/M, also tons of platonic cuddling, among others, and some scottxallison of course, and that's how the author likes it, because the world deserves more sickly sweet fluff, im lazy, in which Derek likes to cuddle but he'll never admit it, nothing sad happens ever, other couples too but i didn't really wanna name them all, probably some maliaxkira, this is shameless fluff, with everyone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 07:20:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2804240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mariachocobo/pseuds/mariachocobo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek Hale will never admit it, but he's a sucker for cuddling. What can he say? He needs those positive touches, and it's not his fault if he craves a little physical reassurance in his life. It's...comforting.<br/>Stiles Stilinski is shamelessly tactile, feeling more stable when he is touching someone, whether it be a hand on a shoulder or full-on-octopus-limb cuddling. Physical touch is grounding, and reminds him that he isn't alone.<br/>Or, the fic where Derek and Stiles find themselves in many, many cuddling situations, and nothing is wrong with that at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The One with the Cuddling

warmth; noun  
1\. the quality, state, or sensation of being warm; moderate and comfortable heat.  
"the warmth of the sun on her skin"   
2\. enthusiasm, affection, or kindness.

Stiles was soaking wet, covered in various cuts and bruises, some of which were still sluggishly oozing blood, and freezing. He stumbled along towards town, accompanied by a brooding figure. Night had fallen in Beacon Hills, bringing with it a torrential downpour and a chill wind, both of which were unforgiving as they battered the lanky boy’s dripping clothes and shivering frame. His teeth chattered as he turned to glare at his companion, who was equally soaked, and looked almost doubly miserable—if that was even possible. 

“H-Have I ever told you how much I hate your plans?” Derek Hale growled, shivering violently, his natural werewolf body heat valiantly trying to warm him against the heavy rain. Sadly, it was in vain. Stiles turned up the intensity of his glare, though his pathetic trembling negated any intimidating effect it was intended to have.

“Listen,” Stiles grit out, “For one thing, how was I supposed to know I didn’t have enough gas? I was, yanno, kinda preoccupied with the whole not dying aspect of things. And for another, whose fault was it that the bastard escaped in the first place, hmm? You’re the one who fell for his glamour.” Stiles folded his arms around himself, trying to preserve body heat.

“I’ve never dealt with fae before, Stiles, how could I have known the effects of a glamour?” Derek snapped back, baring his teeth. Stiles flung his hands into the air, exasperated. 

“I don’t know, you’re the veteran when it comes to dealing with all things dark, brooding, or monster-y. Up until Scott was bit, I thought that werewolves were just stories you tell kids to keep them from wandering in the woods!”  
Per usual, Derek was silent, doing that whole clench-the-jaw-and-turn-to-glare-into-the-distance thing he’s so fond of doing. Stiles rolled his eyes with an irritated noise. Typical Derek. His teeth chattered, and he rubbed his arms quickly up and down, trying to create some kind of body heat from the friction. 

After a lengthy pause in their conversation, Stiles rolled his eyes, huffing out another breath. His phone was destroyed, smashed to bits in a particularly nasty accident in which the fae flung Stiles against a wall, as if that hadn’t already happened enough to the poor teen. He’s pretty sure his ribs are bruised, too. And Derek, well, who knows what happened to Derek’s cell phone. Maybe he left it somewhere again. He had been prone to doing that lately, which worried Stiles. Derek wasn’t usually forgetful. His eyes slid over to Derek, who glowered miserably at the road ahead of them, rain beating down upon his head and shoulders. He shivered pitifully, and Stiles felt his heart break a little bit at the sight. The big, tough Derek Hale was trembling like a leaf caught in gale-force wind. It made Stiles want to wrap him in hundreds of blankets, make him gallons of hot cocoa, and plunk him down in front of the toasty-est fire ever created. The Hale house fire crossed Stiles mind at that moment, and he nixed the fire idea. The blankets and cocoa were still plausible though. First, however, was the issue of getting them both into a warm house and dry clothes. Derek probably wanted to go to the loft, but Stiles knew his house was closer. 

“So, I know you probably want to go straight to the loft, but my house is closer and I really think that we need to get out of the rain before we catch hypothermia and, yanno, die or something. Which would really suck, given that we just survived the horror show that was that fae dude, and given that we’ve survived this far and I think it would be kind of stupid if we died of hypothermia when we’ve always survived all the other crazy crap that happens to us, so yeah. We should go to my house and you’re welcome to stay the night or whatever, Dad doesn’t hate you like he sort of did before he knew about everything, so it should be okay,” Stiles was rambling, so he clamped his mouth shut and braced for the insta-“no” he was expecting. Derek looked over with a sour expression, but didn’t reject the offer, looking instead like he was actually thinking about it. 

“Fine,” he muttered, looking away with another shudder. Stiles wasn’t actually sure if he’d heard that right, but he didn’t think he was brave enough to repeat himself. Instead, he kept his mouth resolutely shut as the drenched pair made their way to the Stilinski house.

When they arrived, Stiles was a little disappointed when his dad wasn’t home. Sheriff Stilinski made the best cup of hot cocoa in all of Beacon Hills, and Stiles had yet to meet anyone who could say any differently. Stiles knew that his dad was probably helping to clean up the rest of the mess that fae had made, but he still wished he was home instead, although it made smuggling Derek in much easier. 

Graciously, Stiles let Derek have the first shower, and changing into his warmest pajama pants and softest sweatshirt after digging out the biggest, baggiest shirt Stiles owned and a pair of sweatpants for Derek. He went into the kitchen after that, Derek still being in the shower, and fixed up two mugs of hot cocoa. Unfortunately, it was just the powdered kind and not the incredible kind that was Sheriff Stilinski’s hot cocoa, but the two of them would just have to suck it up. Once Stiles had two steaming mugs sitting on the counter, he then picked up the house phone, calling the station to tell someone to let his dad know that he was home safe. By some stroke of luck, his dad ended up being at the station when Stiles called, and was given the phone immediately. 

“Hey, Dad,” Stiles greeted, hoping his voice didn’t sound as exhausted as he was. He cradled the phone between his ear and his shoulder, stirring the hot cocoa to keep his hands occupied. 

“Hey, bud, how are you?” The Sheriff sounded beat himself, though the worry in his voice stood out prominently over the tired sound. 

“I’m okay. A few cuts and bruises, but nothing serious. I’ve definitely had worse,” Stiles tried to joke, but it fell flat, the truth of the statement ringing far too loudly in the silence that followed. “Dad, really, I’m okay. Don’t worry about it, just finish up there and get home safe.” Stiles could practically see his dad drag his hand down his face before he replied.

“Alright, kid. I’m glad you’re safe. I’ll be home as soon as I can, okay?”

“’Kay, Dad. Love you.” Stiles forced a weak smile, though there was hardly a need for it.

“Love you, too.” Stiles was reluctant to hang up, as he always was, worried constantly that it would be the last time he heard his Dad’s voice. Quickly, and thankfully, he was distracted from this line of thought before it took a turn down Panic Parkway.

“Is that hot chocolate?” Derek shuffled into the kitchen, the shirt that was so baggy on Stiles fitting Derek’s broader and much more muscular shoulders rather tightly. But hey, at least it fit this time. Derek scrubbed a towel through his hair, which stuck up in all directions, before letting it rest around the back of his neck. Stiles could feel the heat radiating off of Derek now as he came to a stop next to Stiles, reaching for one of the cups. It was a relief that Derek was back to normal, body-heat-wise at least, but it distracted Stiles greatly, and he had to resist the urge to lean into Derek. 

“Be careful not to burn your tongue,” Stiles warned, curling his hands around his own cup, “It’s still really hot.” He turned and padded into the living room, gesturing for Derek to follow. He flipped on the TV before setting his cup down on the coffee table. He went and pulled the biggest, warmest, fluffiest extra blankets and comforters from the closet, dragging the pile of them over to the couch, where Derek had sat, sipping his cocoa delicately. Stiles flung the pile onto the couch, before picking up his hot chocolate and plunking down on the couch himself, wrapping and nestling in the huge amount of blankets, seeing that Derek had done the same. 

Frankly, Stiles was relieved. Derek was usually pretty awkward at other people’s houses, typically itching to leave as soon as he got there. However, it seemed that the near dance with hypothermia had taken all the angst and fight out of him. It was unlike Derek, to be so comfortable, but Stiles decided very quickly that he liked it. 

The pair burrowed into the multitude of blankets, watching trashy TV and reruns of awesome old sitcoms. Stiles had forgotten how hilarious so many of them were. A few even garnered small smiles from Derek, which Stiles counted as wins, though it’s not like Derek lost anything for smiling. In fact, Stiles was pretty sure that his heart stopped every time Derek smiled. Like, if someone were to combine cute puppies, sunshine, and the Sheriff’s hot cocoa, that would almost reach the level of ‘happy’ that Derek’s actual, genuine smile projected. If Stiles was being truthful, it made Stiles feel an incredible need to do whatever possible to make Derek smile like that all the time. Truly, he thought, the world would be a better place with more Derek smiles.   
Soon the cocoa was gone and the cups abandoned on the floor. As they watched television, the pair naturally gravitated toward one another, and it wasn’t long before they were pressed right up against one another, the combined heat from Derek, Stiles, and the mound of blankets surrounding them was enough to make anyone drowsy, and both of them were already exhausted. Thusly, they found their eyes getting heavy, leaning more and more on one another. They exchanged a sleepy look, the television blaring, all loud noises and bright colors, before seemingly reaching a silent and mutual agreement.

Derek yawned and swung his feet up on the couch, Stiles following his lead, the two shifting around on the cramped couch so that they could both fit lying down. Since there was limited couch space, Stiles ended up between Derek and the back of the couch, firmly and warmly trapped. He could feel Derek’s whole body pressed up against him, and he decided in that moment to just go for it. And so, he reached out in the blankets, reaching out to Derek, who got the message quickly and turned over to face Stiles, reaching out as well and pulling Stiles into his arms. Their legs tangled and their chests pressed together, the boys dozed on the small couch, a late night talk show now on the television. 

Derek’s eyes were heavy, barely open as he drowsily stared at Stiles, who stared unblinkingly back, heart not even bothering to race. Their noses brushed, and for a moment, Stiles distractedly thought that maybe Derek was going to kiss him. Instead however, he nuzzled Stiles, rubbing his cheek, rough with stubble, against Stiles’ cheek, letting out a content sigh. Though it was rough and Stiles’ face was sure to be red from the friction, it was a pleasant feeling, and Stiles sleepily smiled. Derek continued to nuzzle, snuffling now against Stiles’ forehead where it met his hair. Stiles tucked his head against Derek’s neck, pressing his palms flat to Derek’s chest. He felt Derek’s heart beating, steady and sure, against his fingertips, and breathed, their heartbeats falling into time with each other as the drowsiness took over, luring the boys deeper into sleep. 

Before they succumbed completely, however, Derek pressed a whispered question into Stile’s hair. “Is this okay?” he breathed, eyes already closed. Stiles nodded against Derek’s skin, shifting ever closer to the warm body next to him. He tried not to read too much into their actions and words as he ghosted his reply against Derek’s neck.

“Yes.” And with that softly spoken word, the two of them fell into a deep, contented slumber.

A few hours later, the Sheriff made it back home, quietly letting himself in. He heard the television blaring and went to turn it off before catching sight of the heartwarming scene on the couch. It was like something straight out of one of those cheesy Hallmark movies. Derek and Stiles were so wrapped up in each other that you could hardly tell whose limb was whose, nestled in the blankets and tangled as they were. They both breathed steadily and quietly, sleeping deeply. The Sheriff noted that it was one of the first times he had seen Stiles sleep so soundly since the Nogitsune incident. He smiled despite of himself, and resolved to threaten Derek in the morning to make sure he never hurt his son. He reached down and picked up the cocoa mugs, going to place them gently in the sink and rinsing them out before retiring to his own room, going to sleep as soon as his head touched the pillow.

It had been an exhausting day all around in Beacon Hills, but for this moment, everything was okay.

**Author's Note:**

> “Forgive me, for I fudged house layout a bit I think.  
> This is a completely shameless collection of cuddling ficcery. No real plot or anything, just cuddles and nice things. This started as a series I wrote when I was sad and lonely, sitting at home healing after my recent surgery. I wasn't planning on posting this until I was talking to my friend about negative stuff happening in the fandom, and decided that I could try and ward off a lil bit of the negativity with cuddling and fluff!   
> Kudos and comments and all are much appreciated! This ridiculous thing is the first fic I've posted here, and so please forgive my mistakes and such, although constructive criticism is always helpful! Thank you for reading, and I hope that this series cheered you up as much as it cheered me!  
> There's probably more to come...


End file.
